The art of deception
by ThisIslandInHerPocket
Summary: What wouldn’t he have done, to keep from experiencing the things that happened during the following weeks? And still, if he had been able to go back, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. AU, Eventually J/E, rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Stargate, except for a few dvd's**

* * *

Music was blastning out through the speakers. John felt like a teenager again as he sat on his bed, letting the tune flow over him. He almost didn't hear the polite knock on the front door, but as he did, he got up with a sigh.

Outside stood a brown-haired woman dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. She smiled apologetically.

"Ah, I'm looking for 54 Palm tree road?"

John ran a hand through his hair. "Sure. That's the house right across the road."

"Thank you." A brief smile, and then she walked away.

* * *

_That was the first time he'd met her. It did seem ordinary. Unnoticeable. But now, looking back, he of course knew it hadn't been. What wouldn't he have done, to keep from experiencing the things that happened during the following weeks. And still, if he had been able to go back, he wouldn't have changed a thing. He would still have stayed at his door for a minute, to make sure she… found her way._

_He screamed again, as pain jolted through his body. Then he clenched his teeth, resolving not to break._

_"I will ask you once more, scum. Where is agent Weir?" The man in front of him raised his fist for another blow, but stopped as John raised his head._

_"I have no idea who you're talking about," he said._

_And the blow came, sending John into unconsciousness._

* * *

She'd reached the door of the opposite house. Another knock. What did she have against doorbells? He smiled at this little quirk.

As the door opened, he saw the glistening of a knife. He acted quickly, without thinking. In a few seconds, he had crossed the street and was at her side.

"Do we have a problem here?" he asked.

"We don't have a problem," she answered, and as John met the gaze of the man in the doorway, he saw fear. What was the man afraid of? Being discovered? John glanced quickly at the woman. Not her, was it?

"Look, I'm sure we can all just solve this as friends. Put the knife down." The last bit being directed at the man, who was now squeezing the handle of his knife with a lightly frantic look on his face. His eyes locked with John's for a few moments and then he made an attempt at a careless shrug.

"You can never be careful enough these days, eh?" he said, lowering the knife a few inches.

"Right," John agreed.

The woman took a step forward, clearly ushering the man into the house. "Thanks for your concern, but I've got it from here," she said over her shoulder.

Later that night, John awoke from a shallow sleep at the sound of someone going through his kitchen. He rose from his bed, padding out onto the landing. He stood at the top of the stairs for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Probably it was a burglar, and he'd had his dose of excitement for today.

Returning to his room, John picked up his cell phone from the nightstand. He dialled 911, and as a voice sparked into existence on the other end, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"I think I've got a burglar on my hands. Yeah. 53 Palm tree road. Thanks. Bye."

When he heard a crash, John decided to go down there anyway. He put down the phone and once again ventured out into the hallway. Carefully avoiding the squeaky steps in the staircase, he made his way down and into the kitchen. He turned on the light and - stopped.

"How can I help you?"

She looked up from the kitchen drawer she was going through and blew a strand of her brown hair out of her eyes.

"You don't happen to have a screwdriver?"

He went over to another drawer, casually asking "So, how did you manage before?"

"Oh." She seemed surprised, but then a playful smile came into her face. "It takes a little bit more than a knife to overpower me." She pointedly followed his gaze to the knife rack on the kitchen counter.

"Oh," he said, crossing the floor and handing her the screwdriver. "Do you mind me asking what you want with that?"

"I'm dismantling a bomb," the answer came, casually, with that same smile. And then she had gone out the door.

A few moments later, the police came storming in. Their guns and flashlights seemed strangely uncalled for in the warm kitchen lighting.

"False alarm," John told the officer who came up to question him. "I suppose I must've heard the tap dripping or something."

"That's odd," the officer commented. "You don't seem like the worrying type."

"I think I saw a woman going out of here when we came down the street," one of the others chimed in.

"A woman? I've got no idea what you're talking about," John answered, uttering those words for the first out of many times.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I just wanted to thank everybody who has added this story to Story alerts. Also a huge thanks to Puddle-Jumper38, who gave me my very first Review. :) Now, here's chapter 2...**

The bartender was a blonde girl dressed in a short black dress. She gave a welcoming smile as John entered the bar and came to sit down. She placed his usual drink in front of him with a simple "How've you been?"

John sighed.

"I don't think you'd believe me, even if I told you." He smirked, and the girl nodded knowingly.

"That happens," she said and leaned on the beer tap. "I've had a disturbingly ordinary couple of days, if that interests you," she added.

"Oh?" John said.

"Yep. The most excitement I've had all week was the usual doctor's visit Monday morning." She said it like it was nothing, but John had known her long enough to know it actually bothered her. Not to talk about it, but the simple fact that she wasn't as strong as everybody else. She had cancer.

"How did it go?" he asked, not letting any concern show in his voice. He knew she hated that.

"Just a routine checkup. Nothing new." She seemed to shut him out all of a sudden, and her eyes shifted to somewhere behind him. "By the way, who's the girl in the leather jacket? She keeps looking over here, like she knows you or something."

John noticed the change of subject, but he didn't comment. Instead he turned around to see what she was talking about.

His heart skipped a beat as he saw her. The woman who'd broken into his kitchen a few nights ago. His eyes locked with hers for just a few seconds before a shot rang out through the room.

John turned around again.

"Amelia, get down!" he said as he got up from his chair, trying to locate the shooter. The few guests were running around frantically, and one woman was even screaming. It didn't take long to identify the only two who weren't overcome by panic.

One of them was the woman he knew. The other was a man in a long, dark coat with his eyes sharply fixed at her. Both were holding guns, pointed at the other.

"John? What's happening?" Amelia called from behind the bar.

"It's ok, Amelia. No one will get hurt. Right?" he added, directed at the two with the guns.

"No," the man said in a cold voice. "Not as long as agent Weir comes along without a fight. And you will, won't you?"

Weir smiled sweetly.

"Have you missed me that much, Terro?" she said. "Quite a surprise, to be honest. I didn't think you cared."

"I think it's time to leave," the man said, taking a few steps closer to Weir and still pointing his gun at her.

"Most definitely," she said. "Though not together."

And then the lights went out. The guest who had screamed before did so again, at the same time as John lashed forward towards Terro. He had only one thought in his head. He had to get hold of the gun before anyone got hurt.

He bumped into a body, and at the same time heard a loud bang very close. Terro had fired his gun. He squinted and saw the shape of the man, only a few feet away. Directing a blow to Terro's kneecap, he sent him down onto the floor. With a kick, he then sent the gun twirling across the floor, making sure Terro couldn't get a hold of it again.

"Amelia? Can you get the power back on?" he called, and the answer came from a different direction than he'd expected. She was already in the power room.

"Just give me a few seconds. It's a bit difficult to put the fuse back in the dark."

"You turned off the power?" Weir asked from her side of the room.

"Yep," Amelia said, just as the lights flickered on again. She came back out with a slightly forced smile on her face. She turned to her remaining, more than a bit scared guests.

"The danger is over. You can either stay here for a drink on the house, or you can go home. I'll call the police and let them know what has happened."

Not one of the guests hesitated, despite the prospect of a free drink. They all were out the door in just a few seconds. Amelia sighed and then said, turning to Weir:

"I just saved you, right?"

"You did," Weir admitted, walking over to Terro, who sat on the floor next to where John stood.

"I'm not going to kill you," she said, crouching down in front of her opponent. "I'm going to send you back to Kicks, with the message that he'll have to do better than this if he wants to silence me."

Terro just watched her, saying nothing. She met his eyes and stood back up, stretching out a hand towards him. He refused to take it, and stumbled to his feet without her help. He hurried to the door, turning right before he went out onto the street, hissing:

"This is just the start!"

Weir watched him seriously. "Oh, I'm well aware of that." Then she turned to John and Amelia, who both stood at the bar, the same serious look on her face.

"Thank you both. Without you I might not have managed," she said.

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' in here somewhere," John commented.

"Yes. I thank you for your help, but I suggest you don't involve yourselves more in this matter. My former agency takes its concerns very seriously, and none of its agents would hesitate to kill."

"You're saying we should just turn our backs on all of this, and leave you alone to handle it?"

"No offence, but I don't really see that you have a choice. You know nothing of the agency or what it does, and the agents are way too much for anyone to handle. They are…"

"And still you suggest that we leave you alone to handle them?" Amelia said, speaking for the first time.

"Yes. They are my problem to handle, not yours. Now, please, try to forget all about this, as soon as you've spoken to the police."

And then she was gone, leaving only the faint thud of the closing door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm so, so, so sorry for not updating. But, well, school's been a handful the last few months. We've had an unbelievable amount of tests and assignments due every week, and I've just not been able to find the time to write. Please let me know if you're still with me out there. Now, all I've got to say is, read, enjoy, and I'll try to be better at updating in the future.**

* * *

The whole day as John was at work, he couldn't help but think of the night before. He felt like it somehow was his responsibility to help the mysterious agent, even though she had assured him that she would manage. In his head, he went over what he knew over and over again. The man from across the street had seemed afraid of her. She had broken into his house. She was an agent. Someone called Terro was out to get her. It wasn't much – for all he knew, she could be a criminal on the run.

"Hey, John, could you take my class today? I've got a hot date tonight." Rodney came up to him, with a smirk on his face.

"Ah, sure," John said. "Anyone I know?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. That girl Amelia, from the bar." Rodney looked more than a little bit smug, until he saw John's facial expression. "You… okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be?" John said, forcing a smile. He'd been far away in thought, and hadn't really been paying attention. For some reason he couldn't get agent Weir off his mind.

"Well, then… I'd better be off," Rodney said, the smirk back in place.

"Yeah. Good luck," John called after the retreating Rodney McKay.

* * *

John had left the University grounds at seven o'clock that night. The evening physics class he'd been covering for Rodney had ended half an hour ago, and now he had just got home and was looking forward to settling down in front of a football game on TV. But as he took out a microwave-dinner – you couldn't be healthy every day of the week, after all – someone knocked on the door. John left his food in the microwave and went to check who it was.

It was dark outside and for some reason the porch light wasn't on, so it took a few minutes before John recognized the figure before him.

"Agent Weir?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath, seemingly to steady herself. "I need your help." Her voice trembled a bit, and that was when John noticed her appearance. Her face was pale. One of the sleeves of her leather jacket was torn open, and something was trickling down her arm. Blood?

"What has happened to you?"

She winced.

"I got shot."

The words hang in the air behind them, filling it up. John took a shocked breath. Then the microwave started beeping in the kitchen and woke him up.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside. "Uh, when did this happen?"

"An hour or so ago," she said as she sat down in the sofa. Clearly she wasn't going to tell him anything else, so John let it slip.

He kneeled down in front of her and helped her get her jacket of. She inhaled sharply when the fabric passed over the wound, but gave no other sign of pain. There was a lot of blood, but fortunately it was only a flesh wound.

"You need to let someone take a look at that for you. It could get infected," John said and looked up to meet her gaze.

"No… I can't. There are people who are looking for me."

John got up.

"I'll call a friend of mine, ok? She won't say a word."

Weir hesitated, and then nodded. John gave her a small smile, and turned around to go out into the kitchen. Picking up the phone, he called Amelia's mobile. She had been a nurse a while back, before she'd decided to quit to open her bar. Hopefully she'd still remember how to tend to a wound.

"John? What's up?" Amelia's voice came from the receiver.

"Amelia, listen, I need your help. Could you come over?"

"I'm on a date. Couldn't this wait 'til tomorrow?"

Right, he'd forgotten about her date with Rodney. But it couldn't be helped.

"No, I don't think so. I've got a patient for you."

When Amelia answered, it was obvious that her curiosity had been spiked.

"I'll be there in a minute."

* * *

A mere ten minutes later the doorbell rang, and outside stood both Amelia and Rodney.

"I hope you don't mind he tagged along," Amelia said as she stepped into the hallway.

"No, sure. Hey, buddy," John added towards Rodney, who glared at him.

"You had to spoil our date, did you?" he said crankily.

"Rodney…" John warned.

"Oh my god!" Amelia's voice came from the living room. She'd no doubt found Weir. "What has happened to you?"

John and Rodney followed Amelia into the living room.

"Oh," Rodney said as he caught sight of the agent. "Sorry." He seemed remorseful for the whole of thirty seconds, before turning to John and asking, "Hey, who is she?"

John opened his mouth to answer, but Weir beat him to it.

"I'm agent Elizabeth Weir. These two," she nodded at John and Amelia, "were kind enough to help me out of some trouble I got myself into last night."

"And now, what, you're using their hospitality again?"

"Rodney!" John protested.

"I'm sorry, but that's what it seems like to me!"

Weir met Rodney's gaze. "You're right, actually. I wouldn't want any of you involved in this if I could avoid it, but in the current situation, it can't be helped."

"Right," Rodney said, and sat down in an armchair, waiting for Amelia to patch the agent back up.

"It's not too bad," the bar girl stated after having cleaned up the wound. "Just give it a few week's rest and it'll be fine." She wrapped a band-aid around the arm and then got up. She turned to John.

"Should we stay, or…"

"We'll be fine. You go back to enjoying your date."

At those words Rodney bounced back to his feet. "Right!" he said, cheerfully this time. "Let's get going!"

Amelia hesitated. "Are you really sure?"

This time Weir spoke up. "Yes, you said it wasn't too bad, right? I'm sure…" She glanced questioningly at John.

"John," he said.

"I'm sure John will call you if anything comes up."

Amelia nodded and dragged Rodney with her out the door.

"Well…" John said hesitantly. He sat down next to the agent. "It turns out you do need our help after all, agent."

"Yes," she said and looked him in the eye. "I suppose I do."

After a few moments of silence she added, "But if we're going to work together, I think you'd better start calling me Elizabeth."

"Right." John smiled. "Elizabeth."

* * *

**A/N: Gah. I just love to write dear Rodney, for some reason. He's wonderful. And, now, lemon meringue pie to everyone who's read this! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is improvement, right? Not even two weeks. And I haven't got school for over a week now, so it should be getting even better. Thanks to lizabeth39 for reviewing :) I'm so happy you like it!**

* * *

The smell of fried eggs was floating in from the kitchen as John woke up. He got out of bed and then stopped with a frown on his face. He'd been living alone for several years. So who was in the kitchen?

Then the memories of the previous night came flooding back into his mind. The pale woman outside his door. The blood covering the sleeve of her jacket where she'd been shot.

The agent – no, he reminded himself, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was now standing in his kitchen, making breakfast. John walked down the stairs to join her.

"Good morning," he said, leaning against the wall opposite the stove.

She turned around with a small smile in her face. "Good morning."

"Shouldn't you, ah, be resting?" John gestured towards the band-aid that was still wrapped around her arm.

"No." She shrugged. "We learned to deal with things that are far worse at the agency." All of a sudden her expression darkened. "I wish we wouldn't have had to."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Elizabeth stepped away from the stove and sat down at the kitchen table, the eggs forgotten.

"I… What they're doing there, it's… unfathomable. The things they do to people! I just couldn't stay there." Her eyes were glowing with a sort of determination as she spoke, and John came to sit down across from her.

"Who?" he asked.

She met his eyes. "The agency. They weren't the sort of people I thought they were."

"I'll help you," John said, and reached out a hand to cover hers.

"Thank you."

It was odd, because John had only known her for a few days, but somehow he had started to trust the escaped agent. As he got up to get the fried eggs, he allowed himself a small smile at the improbability of things. He, a professor at the local university, was the one who'd ended up with a secret agent on the run, sitting in his kitchen.

* * *

Amelia called later that day.

"Is everything alright?" she wanted to know.

"Yeah, sure, she's recovering pretty well," John assured her. "She's been up and about the whole day, and she doesn't even seem tired."

"Maybe you should tell her to calm down a bit. She has been shot, after all."

"Yeah, I'll tell her…" Just as John said that, he heard a crash from the living room. "Elizabeth?" he called. No answer. "Amelia, hang on for a bit, I'm just gonna go check up on Elizabeth."

He left the phone on the kitchen counter and went in to the living room.

"Elizabeth?" he repeated. Then he saw her. She was lying unconscious on the floor, her face flushed. John reached down to feel her forehead. She was burning up.

"Amelia?" he said into the phone once he was back in the kitchen. "Elizabeth's passed out, and I think she's running a fever. Can you come over here?"

"There's not much I can do. If she's got an infection, we'll need to get her to the hospital." Amelia sounded worried.

"No. They'll ask questions. What are we supposed to say?"

"John, we don't have a choice. Trust me, this is really serious."

* * *

Half an hour later, John walked through the doors of the emergency room, carrying Elizabeth in his arms.

"Accident at the shooting range," he told the nurse who came up to him. "She got in the way of a bullet. We didn't think it was too bad. Last time she bounced back without any trouble, but now she passed out."

"It was good you brought her in," the nurse said, waving at a few others to bring out a gurney. "I'll have a doctor take a look at her, and then we'll start her on some antibiotics. She'll be better in a few days."

"Thanks," John said and put Elizabeth down. He hesitated, but then reached down to hold her hand as the nurses rolled her of down the hall.

* * *

_John shifted into a sitting position on the floor of his cell. They'd left him alone for days now, only dropping by once to leave a plate of food, which he hadn't dared to touch. Who knew what they had put in it? Drugs could make people talk, he'd heard, and he didn't want to risk it._

_There had been a lot of time for reminiscing, and still, after having gone through everything that'd happened since he met Elizabeth over and over again, he couldn't bring himself to regret any of it. She was the heroine in all this, and he was happy if he'd been able to make the fight a bit easier for her. Even if it meant he might not live to tell the tale._

_As the door creaked open, John looked up._

_"I've already told you, I wont say anything," he said, watching the figure standing in the darkness of the doorway._

_"I don't expect you to." The voice was familiar, and John gasped as he quickly got to his feet._

_"Elizabeth?"_

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know. I'm evil. But what can I say?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Nothing to say to my defence. It just seems like I'm a slow writer. But I am trying, I promise you! Thanks to Puddle-Jumper38 for reviewing again. :)**

* * *

Elizabeth stirred. John moved closer to the hospital bed.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

She slowly opened her eyes. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You passed out."

"No!" She sat up and looked around in panic. John reached out to put a hand on her arm.

"It's ok. I promise."

Elizabeth sunk back to the pillow. "How long have I been out?"

"A day or two."

"So long? When can I get out of here?"

"Soon," John promised.

* * *

A few days later, John supported Elizabeth as they made their way out of the hospital. She hadn't completely recovered, but she'd been feeling anxious. As she'd put it, the agency ought to find them soon.

It turned out she'd been right. As they neared the exit, Elizabeth froze.

"There." She nodded towards a man who was leaning casually against the wall of the house on the other side of the road. "Terro."

John quickly turned around, guiding Elizabeth back deeper into the hospital.

"Did he see us?" Elizabeth asked, leaning heavier on him.

"No, I don't think so." John turned towards a nurse. "Excuse me, does this place have a back entrance?"

The nurse frowned, and John hurried to offer an explanation. "Just saw my… mother-in-law out there. Don't really feel up to seeing her." He gave a sincere smile, only stopping for half a second to ponder how easily he lied nowadays.

The nurse smiled and waved for him to follow her.

"John?" a familiar voice came from behind them. Amelia.

"Agent Terro's out there," he explained in a whisper when she caught up to them.

Amelia turned backwards to look. "Oh." She bit her lip. "Here." She pushed something into John's free hand. "My car is parked on a side street not far from here. Take it. I'll… try and distract him long enough for you to escape."

"Amelia…"

"Go!" She turned around and walked towards the front doors. "I'll be careful," she promised.

The nurse seemed to have noticed nothing of the exchange, and now lead them through the emergency room and out onto the curb of a side street. John assumed this was where the ambulances usually stopped.

"Thanks." He smiled at the nurse, who gave a small turn of the lips back, and then disappeared inside.

* * *

They found Amelia's red 1983 Audi turbo parked a few streets away. Why she'd parked so close to the back entrance John would never know, but at that moment he was very grateful for it. He got in on the driver's side and waited 'til he heard the passenger side door slam shut before he turned the ignition.

"We'll go home and get some clothes, okay? Then I think we'd best get out of here altogether."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement as John drove up in front of the hospital. When he caught the gaze of Terro who was still standing in the same spot, now talking to Amelia, he knew it had been a mistake. They should have got out of town as quickly as they could. Now he instead watched Terro push Amelia aside and pull out his gun.

With a grin the man took aim. John turned out of the way of the first shot thanks to nothing but pure luck and then slammed his foot down on the gas. The tires screeched as he attempted to turn around the corner. The next shot went through the back window. He could hear Elizabeth scream.

"Are you alright?" he managed as he finally got around the corner, with Terro running after them.

"Yes, I'm fine!" she yelled back over the increasing sound of the engine. Another shot rang, but they were out of Terro's reach. John turned to see the agent stop in the middle of the street, panting and leaning forward. Amelia must have got away, at least. Hopefully.

* * *

They stopped at a gas station a few kilometres out of town. John pulled out his cell phone and dialled Amelia's number. He had to know that she was all right.

"Yes?" she answered a few seconds later.

"Amelia, are you ok?"

"Yes." She sounded slightly out of breath. "I don't think he knows I've got anything to do with you guys. I'll be fine, but listen, John, you have to get far away from here. The police showed up and talked to him, but he just flashed some sort of id, and they let him go. I think they might even help him, so you have to run before he gets any roadblocks up or something."

"Yeah. You sure you're ok?"

"Yes. You?"

"We're fine."

"Good to hear. And John? Be careful."

Then she had hung up. John turned to Elizabeth, who was watching him intently.

"You could go home," she said.

"No. I couldn't even if I wanted to. Terro saw me. And look, I'm not really sure what's going on here, but I do know that you seem to be the good guy. I wont betray you."

She smiled. "Good. Now, where to?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, here I am again! Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long.**

* * *

"What really happened? What… made you leave the agency?" John spoke quietly. He was leaning against the passenger side door, and darkness was flying past outside. They'd been taking turns driving for the last 36 hours, so that they could get far away from Terro as fast as possible.

"I'd been with them for about a year when I started suspecting something wasn't right." Elizabeth kept her eyes on the road as she spoke. "Money was going to people we shouldn't even be associating with, and those who knew didn't care. I spoke to a few colleagues, and we decided to do something about it. Our organization was supposed to be made up of society's best, and we were scamming them. So we went to a local TV station for an interview." She stopped.

"How did it go?" John prompted carefully.

"The reporter started asking questions, and then, out of the blue, there was a shot. Then another." Elizabeth looked up to meet John's eyes. "My best friends were killed that day, and the video was never aired. They died in vain."

"I'm sorry," John said. Elizabeth nodded, and then turned her gaze back to the road.

* * *

The next night, they stopped at a motel. They were both tired, and figured they could afford to stop and rest.

As John sank down on the floor of their shared room, he felt the lack of a proper night's sleep catching up to him. Even though he'd managed to sleep a bit while Elizabeth was driving, it was far from enough. He was sure she also must be tired – probably even more so than he was, given her injury.

"You can take the bed," he offered. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Nonsense." Elizabeth sat down next to him on the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed. "It's a big bed. I think there's room for both of us."

"If you're sure," John said.

Elizabeth nodded. "But first, we need something to eat." She reached for the plastic bag filled with food they'd acquired at a nearby supermarket. Rummaging through it, she pulled out a bag of crisps. She handed it to John, and he smiled tiredly.

"Wow. Real stakeout food."

"Yeah." Elizabeth pulled out a water bottle too, and then pushed the plastic bag away again. She opened the bottle and sipped the water, before handing the bottle to John, who in turn handed her the crisps.

"You know," he started. "This is a pretty absurd situation."

"Tell me about it." She looked him in the eye. "I've been living this life for years now, and I still can't believe it."

"What's it like?"

"Lonely."

At that one word, the atmosphere grew charged, and John couldn't help but hold his breath. They could have sat there for hours, just gazing into the other's eyes, he wasn't sure. When Elizabeth leant forward, he did so too, and then their lips were mere centimetres apart. She exhaled against his mouth, and soon he was carefully kissing her, and her hands moved to his hair. He placed a hand at her waist and one at the side of her throat as the kiss grew more heated. She ran her teeth along his bottom lip, and he moaned softly. When they broke apart, their eyes once again met.

Elizabeth smiled. "That was…"

"Yeah," John agreed.

As if acting on some silent agreement, they both leaned back again. Elizabeth picked up the water bottle, and they sat in silence for a while before John spoke.

"So… Where should we go tomorrow?"

"I thought we'd continue south for a few more days, until we're sure we aren't being followed. Then we'll see what happens."

John nodded and they sunk back into silence.

* * *

The next morning John woke up alone, lying on top of the duvet. Just as he sat up on the edge of the bed, Elizabeth walked out of the bathroom. She was just wearing a towel, and her wet hair lay plastered against the sides of her face. She smiled.

"Morning, sleepy."

"Morning," John answered. He scratched the back of his head. "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven. We'd better get going soon." Elizabeth picked up her clothes, which lay in a neat pile in one of the chairs.

"Yeah, I think I'll just have shower first." As he passed her on the way to the bathroom, John was extremely aware of how close he was to Elizabeth. Their arms brushed slightly, and he could almost swear he heard her breath hitch.

* * *

Just half an hour later they were back on the road again, and John watched the world rush by outside the window. The sun was gazing down upon them from a clear blue sky, giving promise of a warm day. Driving past another car, he cast a glance in Elizabeth's direction. She was leaning back against the car seat with her eyes closed, but as she felt his gaze she opened them and smiled.

"I think it's time for lunch, don't you?" she asked.

"Sure, why not? You wanna stop?"

She shook her head and pulled their food bag out from the back seat.

"Apple?"

John nodded and reached out a hand to take the fruit she was offering. As he did, their fingers brushed. He looked down, and Elizabeth quickly turned back to the bag.

John took a large bite of the apple, and decided to keep his eyes on the road from now on.

* * *

**A/N: I just had to get some romance in there. Tell me what you think!**


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